


Weep, Little Lion Man

by emrys (livingshitpost)



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Feelings of Inadequacy, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Loss of Parent(s), Not Beta Read, Overuse of semicolons, Past Relationship(s), Post-Loss, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Esteem Issues, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 18:15:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17350154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingshitpost/pseuds/emrys





	Weep, Little Lion Man

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Little Lion Man](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/447593) by Mumford & Sons. 



_Weep for yourself, my man;_

_You'll never be what is in your heart._

He'd tried to be a warrior. He held the sword clumsily. His father knocked him on his ass more times than he could count, and he was holding back considerably. He brushed off the dust and cleaned the dirt from the scrapes on his hands and knees, and he was ashamed.

_Weep, little lion man;_

_You're not as brave as you were at the start._

His hands shake as he faces the forsaken city. He grips the reins of his horse until his knuckles are white, thankfully hidden beneath his gloves. Hadn't his father told him that it would get easier with time? Why is he so scared? He steadies his breathing as best he can.

_Rate yourself and rake yourself;_

_Take all the courage you have left._

_And waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head._

He weighs the pros and cons of each decision he makes, but he's still just a boy of eighteen. His father had been working on fixing this mess so that he wouldn't have to deal with it, and yet here he is, reading document after document of legal drivel, hoping that he'll be able to love someone when this is over.

If it is ever to _be_ over.

_But it was not your fault but mine;_

_And it was your heart on the line._

_I really fucked it up this time,_

_Didn't I, my dear?_

The Black Prince watches in secret, making promises to only himself that he would step from the shadows eventually. His heart sinks every time he sees his once-lover limping about the keep with his cane.

_Tremble for yourself, my man;_

_You know that you have seen this all before._

He holds fast when he goes to see Saurfang. He'd visited Garrosh Hellscream back in Pandaria, but this is different. Now he is not just a human prince. Now he is His Majesty Anduin Llane Wrynn, High King of the Grand Alliance. Now he is entering the wolf's den.

_Tremble, little lion man;_

_You'll never settle any of your scores._

He digs the heels of his hands into his eyes until he sees bright spots in the inky darkness. She'd gotten away, he chides himself, he'd let her get away.

_"Surrender, or die."_

And she had done neither.

(Perhaps his people were right to wish that he had died in his father's stead.)

_Your grace is wasted in your face;_

_Your boldness stands alone among the wreck._

When he sleeps, it isn't soundly.

_"Our assault has been for nothing."_

His people die before him. They fall to the ground, dying, gasping for breath. He manages to save some, but most slip through his fingers. They forget themselves and are raised by  _her_ , and they ready their weapons once again, but now they're aiming for him.

The sobs that wrack his body leave him a gasping, hiccuping mess in the quiet of the night.

_Now learn from your mother,_

_Or else spend your days biting your own neck._

His gloves cover the scars and bandages on his fingers from picking at the skin around his nails. He bites the insides of his lips as he tries to think of how to go about it all. The Alliance is spread too far, too thin — and so is he.

_But it was not your fault, but mine;_

_And it was your heart on the line._

_I really fucked it up this time,_

_"You put the torch to Teldrassil, but_ I _failed those who burned._ _I will not make that mistake again."_

_"You've won **nothing**."_

_Didn't I, my . . ._


End file.
